


Where the Land Meets the Water

by PiscesDragon



Category: Free!
Genre: Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, No Beta, Post-Canon, University, loving relationship, they just love each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:35:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21772294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PiscesDragon/pseuds/PiscesDragon
Summary: Haru is the water — bringing waves of pleasure tumbling gently through Makoto. The muscles of his back ripple like sand on the beach when the water pulls away.Makoto is the land — firm and sturdy under him, resilient and reliable, keeping Haru safe and steady.
Relationships: Nanase Haruka/Tachibana Makoto
Comments: 9
Kudos: 61





	Where the Land Meets the Water

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Free! fic -- something about the balance these characters bring to each other just called to me. I hope you like it!

His hands run over the wide planes of Makoto’s naked back, smoothing gently over the soft skin as Haruka rolls his hips in a slow, lazy pattern. The push and pull reminds him of the waves along the shore, crashing against the sand only to pull back and then do it again. 

Over and over again.

Haru is the water — each thrust bringing a wave of pleasure that tumbles gently through Makoto. The muscles of his back ripple like sand on the beach when the water pulls away. A sudden tightness clenches around Haru’s cock, as if his boyfriend’s body can keep him securely contained within.

Makoto is the land — firm and sturdy under him, resilient and reliable, keeping Haru steady. Some days he feels like Makoto is the only thing preventing his mind from flying off into the wind or getting stuck in the water where he spends so much of his time. Makoto has always been a grounding force, for as long as Haru can remember, keeping him safe and forcing him to muddle through the mundane activities of daily life. 

But now he realizes that Makoto needs him, too. That knowledge provides a different sense of solid ground. It’s knowing that he must take care of himself, not let himself slip too far away from the physical world, because he must always be present for Makoto. For the soil must have water just as water needs a way to be contained.

“Haru.” The whisper comes with a large hand, reaching back, asking to be held in his own. It’s a reminder, to come back, to get out of his own head before he zones out completely.

Makoto knows. Somehow, he always knows when Haru needs him. And his hand is always there to grab onto — a firm anchor in the world.

“I’m here, Mako,” he says, leaning down to rain kisses along the line of Makoto’s shoulders. His left hand squeezes the larger one holding it, and he can’t resist running his thumb along the silver band on Makoto’s ring finger.

He’d put it there just weeks ago, in a fit of jealous determination. It was just his luck that his boyfriend’s college major was overrun with young women, all of whom seemed to view finding a husband as an unwritten requirement for their degree. It was not Makoto’s fault that he was termed “a catch” and doggedly pursued by — what seemed to Haru — every single female in his coursework. But Haru’s patience with it had run thin.

Walking past a jewelry store one day, Haru had a flash of brilliance — a way to mark Makoto as off limits to everyone but him. He’d presented it to Makoto as a promise, a way to make it easier for him to let down the girls that approached him, and a reminder that Haru was always with him, even on the days and weeks when he was pulled away and traveling to swim tournaments around the world.

Makoto had been so touched, Haru thought for a moment he might cry. They both knew that marriage wasn’t possible for them — not now, because of their age and not in Japan, because it wasn’t legal. But one day, the ring promised, they would be together for the world to see.

They already were in all the ways that mattered — body, mind, and soul.

“Haru.” His name is a breath on Makoto’s lips. “Haru… I need…"

He doesn’t need to finish. Haru knows what’s requested by the sound of his name alone, their synchronicity so well-versed it’s an inherent part of them. Especially when they are connected like this.

Easing his hand from Makoto’s grip, he takes well-practiced hold of the solid hips beneath him, pulling them up to a different angle. With his next thrust Haru hits the spot that makes his boyfriend keen with pleasure, and a tiny smile pulls at Haru’s lips. He increases the pace, his hips pushing harder, balls landing with a smack against Makoto’s skin in an obscene rhythm.

“Haru! Ahh!” Makoto moans, and Haru’s smile widens. He loves the way the man, usually so full of words, loses them all when they’re together like this.

It’s a difficult task to ignore the pleasurable heat bubbling to the surface under his skin, but he forces it to the back of his mind, his focus solely on giving Makoto the rapture he deserves.

One of Haru’s hands slides lower, fingers skimming along the V of Makoto’s groin. He finds what he wants, hot and pulsing with need, and wraps a hand around firmly. Makoto sucks in a breath with a gasp, dick twitching and hardening in Haru’s palm. As much as he’s enjoying Makoto’s noises, he can tell the man can’t take much more. His eyes are clenched closed, mouth wide as he breathes harshly through the haze of desire. His tongue darts out to moisten the dry, bitten lips. Rosy pink covers his cheeks and spreads to the back of Makoto’s neck.

Beautiful.

Haru hadn’t been paying attention, and the time slipped away with his focus. It must be well over an hour that Haru’s been edging him — pushing Makoto to the crest of the wave only to pull back and deny him the inevitable crash and spill. He’s rock hard and silky under Haru’s capable hand, pumping smoothly up and down, as Makoto moans like a symphony beneath him. His thumb slides over the sensitive head and the slickness he finds there.

He wants Makoto to give him all of it, overwhelmed with the urge to milk him dry.

His cock pounds Makoto relentlessly from behind, hand jerking faster and tighter beneath him, until finally the man snaps.

Makoto’s release is a tsunami, crashing over him with a force that screams and whites out everything else.

The pulsing under his hand combines with the rhythmic squeezing around his cock, pulling Haru higher on a wave of pleasure. As it crests, he pulls out, groaning and euphoric. White dances around the edge of his vision and spurts over Makoto’s tan skin, reminding Haru of the foam of the sea on the beach. He can’t resist running a finger through it, trailing it down Makoto’s back like a shoreline.

“That tickles, Haru,” Makoto huffs, restraining a giggle. He peeks over his shoulder to gaze at Haru, who sits with knees bent and legs folded underneath him. Still panting, Makoto tries to catch his breath as the red begins to fade from his face.

_ He’s glorious, _ Haru thinks. He would never be able to say it aloud, but Makoto reads it in his wide blue eyes. His green ones disappear from view as Makoto turns to hide his face in the pillow.

While he’s not in a position to argue, Haru uses the sheet to clean up the mess on Makoto’s back and throws it on the floor near the hamper. He’ll do the laundry later before Makoto can worry about it.

Haru flops down next to the taller man, their arms touching but not crowding each other. He watches a bead of sweat trail down from the brown hair sticking to Makoto’s forehead, sliding along his cheekbone to the end of his sharp jawline. Haru narrowly resists the urge to catch the salty water with his tongue, and he thinks fondly of the bath they both now sorely need.

Emerald eyes appear again, joined by a lazy, content smile as Makoto lifts his head to look at him again. “I love you, Haru,” he says softly, wrapping a muscular arm around Haruka’s waist.

Haru’s heart melts a little at the tone, always unable to comprehend why Makoto thinks  _ he _ is something precious, to be treasured. He hums a response, knowing his boyfriend will read his meaning, and leans over to capture pink lips with his own.

As Makoto’s large hand tightens his hold, tongue teasing and sliding against his, Haru decides that — just this once — perhaps the bath can wait.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first E-rated fic, so I hope I did it justice. I would love to hear your comments! I'm really open to suggestions and would appreciate hearing what worked and what didn't. Kudos are always nice to see too!


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